CHAPTER 14
0748 Hours, August 15, 2553 (Military Calendar)/ Dropship Foehammer, above plasma-waves of planet Raiek
James stared up in horror as the grotesque sight of Brent loomed above him. Brent had been mutated by the Flood, and his flesh was basically non- existant. What little of it was left had been reduced to gray, shifting, infected, dirty flesh that seemed to writhe on his body. His face was eaten almost totally away. Only charred parts of it remained, and his teeth were yellow and cut short.
His arms were long and fleshy, with four fingers on them, capable of elongating into deadly tentacles used in a whiplike fashion. His legs were soldily built. It would take a lot to bring this one down.
Using his fingers like tentacles and stretching them to lengths so far they whipped around the deck in a whirling fashion, Brent aimed them right for James's helmet. The blow struck home, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, where he landed and didn't move.
Bryce and Jarrett leaped up and opened fire, but Brent shoved them backwards with a push from his waving tentacles.
Alex burst out from the cockpit door and raised his MA5B assault rifle. However, even his speed was much too slow for Brent's lashing tendrils. He whipped out and snapped one finger, causing the gun to go skittering from his hand. With another flick, he pushed Alex down.
James raised an M6D pistol and fired it right at Brent's vile leg. The wound sprouted no blood, because Brent had no blood to offer. The monstrosity roared in anger and charged forward. Taking the blow hard in his chest, James fell backwards and landed in a heap on the far wall.
Alex and Bryce sprang up and fired at the same time. Jarrett came up behind them and fired a pistol. Brent was taking the hits hard, but the sudden lashing out of his tentacles sent them all backwards.
Brent latched onto Bryce's leg. In one quick motion, he flung the brave soldier back out the open hatch of the Pelican dropship. Crying aloud, Bryce flailed his arms as he plummeted towards the plasma. If he dropped into it, he'd fall as if he were in air, because the plasma was so spread apart, unlike water. He'd also have only eight seconds for the shield to hold up, and about five seconds before it ate through the armor.
James leaped up, crying out at Bryce's distress. He raised an assault rifle and fired off several rounds into Brent's legs. The Flood combat monster fell to the left, landing on the wall.
Bryce hurried to quickly assemble the device before he ran out of time. Pulling a fresh hook from his belt, Bryce tied the hook in place and aimed it towards Foehammer. He pulled the trigger, felt the slight force of carbon dioxide power, and watched as the rope zipped upwards, snagging onto the open lip of the boarding ramp.
Moving quickly to avoid the tentacles, James sprang backwards and shouted to Jarrett. "Get up there and help the pilot!" Jarrett immediately sprinted away. When James spotted the line of Bryce latch on, he moved quickly to it.
Meanwhile, Alex aimed a punch at Brent, who was back on his feet. The Flood monster took the assault and knocked Alex in the jaw. Taking another swing, Alex was blocked with his left arm, then right, and then knocked backwards. He came back for more and they continued to fight.
Bryce's rope caught on the lip, and the line pulled taught just before he would have taken a swim. Letting out a grunt, Bryce swooped back up, and changed the function from fire to retract. Once it was engaged, Bryce pulled the trigger and began to slowly close the distance between him and the ship.
Using his mighty Spartan strength, James began to hoist Bryce back up. "I'm going to pull you in!" he called into his mic. He saw, with expert vison, the worried nod of Bryce's head.
Alex was knocked backwards by Brent's tentacle, which tripped him as he fell back. He landed hard on the floor near the wall. Sick of this hand-to- hand, Brent moved towards James as the Commander hoisted Bryce back up. Just as James spun around, Brent landed a back-hand smack with three tentacles, sending him to the ground.
Bryce felt the recoil, and because of the rope falling a bit more since James stumbled, a wave shot through it. It spiraled upwards and traveled at amazing speeds at Bryce. As it came down, the intense speed caused the wave in the line to snap against Bryce's wrist, so strong it left a crack. With a grunt, he continued to hold for dear life. If he fell in, he would die.
When he had grown weary of this type of attack and provoking, Brent stood up to his full height and four tentacles smacked James's visor, sending him tumbling over the edge. He reached up and snagged the side of the ship. Using the suit's multiple functions, James locked the movement of his left hand so it would not be able to be moved, and thus becoming like an anchor for him and Bryce.
It was only the progrees of Bryce's retracting rope that saved him. James fell some distance before he was able to right himself, and the rope traveled further down considerably. Once again caught, Bryce's left boot dipped into the plasma at incredible speeds since the Pelican continued to move. His shields instantly failed, and flashed warnings at him inside his HUD.
After a short cry from the slight fall, Bryce tightened his grip even more so, if that was possible. He wanted to come out of this mission alive, and death was now staring him right in the face. Jason was presumed dead, and Brent was on his way, which left only four Spartans alive. If all of them died, Earth was doomed, and the Raiek project would essentially succeed.
Whatever was on that moon would make it if the Spartans didn't. It was either it...or them.
0736 Hours, August 15, 2553 (Military Calendar)/ Daygars compound on planet Raiek (or what's left of it)
Just as the plasma columns gouted up onto the surface several minutes before Bryce was faced with certain death, a Covenant dropship swooped down to retrieve any survivors. Rebels were to die and faithful warriors were to be rewarded. The Flood, according to their Prophets, were expendable for any reason.
Since the Covenant didn't especially like the Flood, they had no reason to save them. The pilot Elite flying the dropship came down and landed next to a piece of Daygars still suriving. Nearly a hundred total Elites, Hunters, Jackals and Grunts were waiting on it, along with seventeen Howlers. Coming in at a strange angle, they took a second to right themselves, and slowed to a stop in the crevice made especially for the U- shaped craft.
A strong gold-clad Elite named Zaran 'Gangolee held his plasma sword in one hand, using his other to direct what little forces he had back aboard the dropship. In the distance, he could see several others coming nearer. If they couldn't fit aboard this one, two others might be useful.
"Keep moving!" he shouted encouragingly. "Raiek is going down, and we are too if we don't get off this rock!"
Constant plasma geysers erupted around them, spraying the landing platform with the melting substance, killing many Covenant warriors. But Zaran kept his men moving, urging them into the ships. The Prophets would be most pleased if the vast majority of his army survived.
As the last of the Hunters and Grunts were making their way onto the third ship, for that was how many it took to evac all the Covenant warriors, a combat Flood warrior hid underneath the loading platform. He laughed to himself as one whiplike tentacle latched onto the underside. Since his flesh was nearly gone, the heat of the engines wouldn't hurt him.
With one flick of his wrist, he swung over and adhered to the bottom of the ship, grabbing several handholds with his many tentacles. After the trip through space which he could easily survive, since his lungs were pretty much gone and all that was left was rotten flesh powered by the Flood spores, he planned on landing on Raiek's moon along with the Covenant and starting up more Flood there. If it worked, they could overpower the Covenant and take the moon as their own.
Zaran hopped aboard one dropship, and the entire ship was gone in a blinding flash of light, sent nearly above the atmosphere in mere seconds.
Standon and his men were sitting in their cell aboard the Winter. The rest of the crew had long-since left, but since they were considered useless, Captain Moores had left them to die. If the General ever got his hands on that Captain....the General shifted uncomfortably as the bio-foam in his stomach moved several inches. He wanted to rub the area, but his hands were buckled over his head in powerful metal shackles bolted onto the ship's walls.
He grunted with exertion, trying to break his bonds, but it was no use. Those things were so strong only a Hunter could snap them. Standon slumped back down, weary.
Colonel Garison struggled to keep from losing his lunch. The metal bond around his neck was specially designed to gag its captors, and the exhausted Colonel realized struggling was no use. He looked to his left and saw the General's other officer, already dead from hunger. The sight sickened him to the core.
Standon himself hadn't eaten in two days from anticipation of murdering Moores, but the filthy captain had escaped his fate. For that, he would pay. The next time the General met the Captain, one of them wouldn't survive.
With an echo that reverberated through the both of them, the door in the corner shook violently. Waves of sound blasted over them, and they twisted up their faces as the door buckled and clattered to the ground. With a roar, an Elite leaped through, dressed in blue armor, followed by one more blue-clad warrior. Behind them came one red Elite, and one gold.
Finally, behind all four Elites, five Grunts waddled into the largish room as well. They laughed in delight and ran over to the two humans, waving their guns around madly. They wanted the kill!
Zaran 'Gangolee, dressed in his treasured golden armor, strode up to the General. He figured this human was the highest ranking of the two. His jacket was covered with medals and pins. Zaran stared down at him, struggling to speak English to him.
"General Standon?" he grunted.
Standon looked up, horrified at the sight of the Elite, who easily stood seven feet tall. He held a plasma rifle in one hand, and an unlit plasma sword was clapsed onto his forearm. Standon nodded in reply to the warrior's question, shaking in fear. The Colonel next to him was out cold.
"Good," Zaran grunted, starting to struggle with his English translator to get it to work properly. "I'm Zaran 'Gangolee. You come with me, reveal plans of humans, or die here." The blue-clad Elites leveled plasma pistols at the General's head. "Up to you," Zaran concluded.
Standon considered. Even if he did reveal the places that the humans were, the Covenant would kill him. But if he just died now, the humans might succeed. The one thing Standon wanted was to see Moores fail...die trying. He wanted Moores to die.
Breathing deeply, Standon stared into the Elite commander's face. The slit eyes were bearing down at him, but he couldn't tell if the officer was angry or just bored. With a slight nod, Standon signaled he would do what the Elite wanted.
Zaran held up a clawed hand. The two minor Elites raised their guns. Thinking the weapons were pointed right at his face, Standon cringed and screamed. Perhaps they had misunderstood him. Perhaps they thought he would prefer death.
As the scream began to die down, the Elites fired. The shackles holding Standon's wrist shattered and clattered to the ground. Zaran leaned forward and yanked hard on the neck brace. It took several pulls, but he eventually popped it free from the wall. Rubbing his neck, Standon stood up. He would have killed them all, but he was without weapons.
Zaran signaled to the Grunts, and they made their exit, laughing. "Shall we take him?" Zaran asked, indicating the still-unconscious Colonel. Standon nodded, shaking. The red-armored Elite fired his gun at the three shackles and hefted the human onto the shoulders of one of the minor Elites.
"Take him, make sure he lives," Zaran grunted. He strode from the room, followed by the two minor Elites, followed by the General, with the red Elite taking up the rear.
They were on the moon, headed for the main room of Orean's military complex. The complex itself was much smaller than Raiek's, as it consisted of only two rooms, both of which were underground. Around the large metal pipe entrance, four Shades, seven Ghosts, six Banshees, and plenty of soldiers stood guard.
The moon of Raiek was dubbed Orean by the Covenant. It was the Covenant's last stand against the humans. After losing Raiek to the Spartans, Orean was all they had left in this area of space. The Fortress had been built by humans, but was overrun a year beforehand. The humans were hoping they could either take it back, or destroy it.
0748 Hours, August 15, 2553 (Military Calendar)/ Dropship Foehammer, above plasma-waves of planet Raiek
James stared up in horror as the grotesque sight of Brent loomed above him. Brent had been mutated by the Flood, and his flesh was basically non- existant. What little of it was left had been reduced to gray, shifting, infected, dirty flesh that seemed to writhe on his body. His face was eaten almost totally away. Only charred parts of it remained, and his teeth were yellow and cut short.
His arms were long and fleshy, with four fingers on them, capable of elongating into deadly tentacles used in a whiplike fashion. His legs were soldily built. It would take a lot to bring this one down.
Using his fingers like tentacles and stretching them to lengths so far they whipped around the deck in a whirling fashion, Brent aimed them right for James's helmet. The blow struck home, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, where he landed and didn't move.
Bryce and Jarrett leaped up and opened fire, but Brent shoved them backwards with a push from his waving tentacles.
Alex burst out from the cockpit door and raised his MA5B assault rifle. However, even his speed was much too slow for Brent's lashing tendrils. He whipped out and snapped one finger, causing the gun to go skittering from his hand. With another flick, he pushed Alex down.
James raised an M6D pistol and fired it right at Brent's vile leg. The wound sprouted no blood, because Brent had no blood to offer. The monstrosity roared in anger and charged forward. Taking the blow hard in his chest, James fell backwards and landed in a heap on the far wall.
Alex and Bryce sprang up and fired at the same time. Jarrett came up behind them and fired a pistol. Brent was taking the hits hard, but the sudden lashing out of his tentacles sent them all backwards.
Brent latched onto Bryce's leg. In one quick motion, he flung the brave soldier back out the open hatch of the Pelican dropship. Crying aloud, Bryce flailed his arms as he plummeted towards the plasma. If he dropped into it, he'd fall as if he were in air, because the plasma was so spread apart, unlike water. He'd also have only eight seconds for the shield to hold up, and about five seconds before it ate through the armor.
James leaped up, crying out at Bryce's distress. He raised an assault rifle and fired off several rounds into Brent's legs. The Flood combat monster fell to the left, landing on the wall.
Bryce hurried to quickly assemble the device before he ran out of time. Pulling a fresh hook from his belt, Bryce tied the hook in place and aimed it towards Foehammer. He pulled the trigger, felt the slight force of carbon dioxide power, and watched as the rope zipped upwards, snagging onto the open lip of the boarding ramp.
Moving quickly to avoid the tentacles, James sprang backwards and shouted to Jarrett. "Get up there and help the pilot!" Jarrett immediately sprinted away. When James spotted the line of Bryce latch on, he moved quickly to it.
Meanwhile, Alex aimed a punch at Brent, who was back on his feet. The Flood monster took the assault and knocked Alex in the jaw. Taking another swing, Alex was blocked with his left arm, then right, and then knocked backwards. He came back for more and they continued to fight.
Bryce's rope caught on the lip, and the line pulled taught just before he would have taken a swim. Letting out a grunt, Bryce swooped back up, and changed the function from fire to retract. Once it was engaged, Bryce pulled the trigger and began to slowly close the distance between him and the ship.
Using his mighty Spartan strength, James began to hoist Bryce back up. "I'm going to pull you in!" he called into his mic. He saw, with expert vison, the worried nod of Bryce's head.
Alex was knocked backwards by Brent's tentacle, which tripped him as he fell back. He landed hard on the floor near the wall. Sick of this hand-to- hand, Brent moved towards James as the Commander hoisted Bryce back up. Just as James spun around, Brent landed a back-hand smack with three tentacles, sending him to the ground.
Bryce felt the recoil, and because of the rope falling a bit more since James stumbled, a wave shot through it. It spiraled upwards and traveled at amazing speeds at Bryce. As it came down, the intense speed caused the wave in the line to snap against Bryce's wrist, so strong it left a crack. With a grunt, he continued to hold for dear life. If he fell in, he would die.
When he had grown weary of this type of attack and provoking, Brent stood up to his full height and four tentacles smacked James's visor, sending him tumbling over the edge. He reached up and snagged the side of the ship. Using the suit's multiple functions, James locked the movement of his left hand so it would not be able to be moved, and thus becoming like an anchor for him and Bryce.
It was only the progrees of Bryce's retracting rope that saved him. James fell some distance before he was able to right himself, and the rope traveled further down considerably. Once again caught, Bryce's left boot dipped into the plasma at incredible speeds since the Pelican continued to move. His shields instantly failed, and flashed warnings at him inside his HUD.
After a short cry from the slight fall, Bryce tightened his grip even more so, if that was possible. He wanted to come out of this mission alive, and death was now staring him right in the face. Jason was presumed dead, and Brent was on his way, which left only four Spartans alive. If all of them died, Earth was doomed, and the Raiek project would essentially succeed.
Whatever was on that moon would make it if the Spartans didn't. It was either it...or them.
0736 Hours, August 15, 2553 (Military Calendar)/ Daygars compound on planet Raiek (or what's left of it)
Just as the plasma columns gouted up onto the surface several minutes before Bryce was faced with certain death, a Covenant dropship swooped down to retrieve any survivors. Rebels were to die and faithful warriors were to be rewarded. The Flood, according to their Prophets, were expendable for any reason.
Since the Covenant didn't especially like the Flood, they had no reason to save them. The pilot Elite flying the dropship came down and landed next to a piece of Daygars still suriving. Nearly a hundred total Elites, Hunters, Jackals and Grunts were waiting on it, along with seventeen Howlers. Coming in at a strange angle, they took a second to right themselves, and slowed to a stop in the crevice made especially for the U- shaped craft.
A strong gold-clad Elite named Zaran 'Gangolee held his plasma sword in one hand, using his other to direct what little forces he had back aboard the dropship. In the distance, he could see several others coming nearer. If they couldn't fit aboard this one, two others might be useful.
"Keep moving!" he shouted encouragingly. "Raiek is going down, and we are too if we don't get off this rock!"
Constant plasma geysers erupted around them, spraying the landing platform with the melting substance, killing many Covenant warriors. But Zaran kept his men moving, urging them into the ships. The Prophets would be most pleased if the vast majority of his army survived.
As the last of the Hunters and Grunts were making their way onto the third ship, for that was how many it took to evac all the Covenant warriors, a combat Flood warrior hid underneath the loading platform. He laughed to himself as one whiplike tentacle latched onto the underside. Since his flesh was nearly gone, the heat of the engines wouldn't hurt him.
With one flick of his wrist, he swung over and adhered to the bottom of the ship, grabbing several handholds with his many tentacles. After the trip through space which he could easily survive, since his lungs were pretty much gone and all that was left was rotten flesh powered by the Flood spores, he planned on landing on Raiek's moon along with the Covenant and starting up more Flood there. If it worked, they could overpower the Covenant and take the moon as their own.
Zaran hopped aboard one dropship, and the entire ship was gone in a blinding flash of light, sent nearly above the atmosphere in mere seconds.
Standon and his men were sitting in their cell aboard the Winter. The rest of the crew had long-since left, but since they were considered useless, Captain Moores had left them to die. If the General ever got his hands on that Captain....the General shifted uncomfortably as the bio-foam in his stomach moved several inches. He wanted to rub the area, but his hands were buckled over his head in powerful metal shackles bolted onto the ship's walls.
He grunted with exertion, trying to break his bonds, but it was no use. Those things were so strong only a Hunter could snap them. Standon slumped back down, weary.
Colonel Garison struggled to keep from losing his lunch. The metal bond around his neck was specially designed to gag its captors, and the exhausted Colonel realized struggling was no use. He looked to his left and saw the General's other officer, already dead from hunger. The sight sickened him to the core.
Standon himself hadn't eaten in two days from anticipation of murdering Moores, but the filthy captain had escaped his fate. For that, he would pay. The next time the General met the Captain, one of them wouldn't survive.
With an echo that reverberated through the both of them, the door in the corner shook violently. Waves of sound blasted over them, and they twisted up their faces as the door buckled and clattered to the ground. With a roar, an Elite leaped through, dressed in blue armor, followed by one more blue-clad warrior. Behind them came one red Elite, and one gold.
Finally, behind all four Elites, five Grunts waddled into the largish room as well. They laughed in delight and ran over to the two humans, waving their guns around madly. They wanted the kill!
Zaran 'Gangolee, dressed in his treasured golden armor, strode up to the General. He figured this human was the highest ranking of the two. His jacket was covered with medals and pins. Zaran stared down at him, struggling to speak English to him.
"General Standon?" he grunted.
Standon looked up, horrified at the sight of the Elite, who easily stood seven feet tall. He held a plasma rifle in one hand, and an unlit plasma sword was clapsed onto his forearm. Standon nodded in reply to the warrior's question, shaking in fear. The Colonel next to him was out cold.
"Good," Zaran grunted, starting to struggle with his English translator to get it to work properly. "I'm Zaran 'Gangolee. You come with me, reveal plans of humans, or die here." The blue-clad Elites leveled plasma pistols at the General's head. "Up to you," Zaran concluded.
Standon considered. Even if he did reveal the places that the humans were, the Covenant would kill him. But if he just died now, the humans might succeed. The one thing Standon wanted was to see Moores fail...die trying. He wanted Moores to die.
Breathing deeply, Standon stared into the Elite commander's face. The slit eyes were bearing down at him, but he couldn't tell if the officer was angry or just bored. With a slight nod, Standon signaled he would do what the Elite wanted.
Zaran held up a clawed hand. The two minor Elites raised their guns. Thinking the weapons were pointed right at his face, Standon cringed and screamed. Perhaps they had misunderstood him. Perhaps they thought he would prefer death.
As the scream began to die down, the Elites fired. The shackles holding Standon's wrist shattered and clattered to the ground. Zaran leaned forward and yanked hard on the neck brace. It took several pulls, but he eventually popped it free from the wall. Rubbing his neck, Standon stood up. He would have killed them all, but he was without weapons.
Zaran signaled to the Grunts, and they made their exit, laughing. "Shall we take him?" Zaran asked, indicating the still-unconscious Colonel. Standon nodded, shaking. The red-armored Elite fired his gun at the three shackles and hefted the human onto the shoulders of one of the minor Elites.
"Take him, make sure he lives," Zaran grunted. He strode from the room, followed by the two minor Elites, followed by the General, with the red Elite taking up the rear.
They were on the moon, headed for the main room of Orean's military complex. The complex itself was much smaller than Raiek's, as it consisted of only two rooms, both of which were underground. Around the large metal pipe entrance, four Shades, seven Ghosts, six Banshees, and plenty of soldiers stood guard.
The moon of Raiek was dubbed Orean by the Covenant. It was the Covenant's last stand against the humans. After losing Raiek to the Spartans, Orean was all they had left in this area of space. The Fortress had been built by humans, but was overrun a year beforehand. The humans were hoping they could either take it back, or destroy it.